


Cigarettes and Strawberries

by just_one_badwolf



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Humanstuck, davekat - Freeform, musician au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_one_badwolf/pseuds/just_one_badwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat Vantas is a struggling musician, who is startled when he finds a legitimate fan, Dave Strider.<br/>Then shit goes down. (mostly because of Gamzee tbh)<br/>(unfinished, may never be finished)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cigarettes and Strawberries

       The cigarette tipped at the corner of the singer’s mouth, smoke rising into the dingy ceiling of the bar he was preforming in. His jeans were dirty, his shirt was blood-stained, and the circles under his eyes were almost as dark as his hair, which was swept up in a messy bun behind his head. His long pale fingers danced over the strings of his guitar, his voice shaking to every key. His eyelids fluttered open at the last note, revealing the emerald glory. He glanced over the small crowd, twenty or so people that sat in the bar, drinking their drinks and smirking their smirks. He knew none of them were listening to the lyrics, he purposefully had the microphone lowered and the amp on his guitar heightened just a bit to be sure. He wanted them to listen, he did, but as the smoke tangled with his hair he knew he would never be good enough. Karkat hated himself, every single inch of himself he despised, and as he thought that he was signaled by the owner of the bar to wrap it up, they had other acts, better acts that needed the stage. He nodded his head, tapped his cigarette, grabbed his guitar and dragged his body to backstage.

  
       It wasn’t really a backstage, but it was a small room that was located behind the stage where the musicians sat before and after their acts, and everyone called it backstage. It made for the “I’m going to be the biggest rock star ever” atmosphere for the place a whole lot thicker. Karkat never sat back there, he didn’t like it, but every night he came back. So he slung his guitar behind his back and walked out slowly, his long legs walking over the drunken singers on the floor. He scoffed at them and turned his head, stopping in his tracks. He glanced over them, the entire posse of has-beens, never-weres, never-will-bes, and that one kid that just wanted to save the world. He’d seen them a hundred times before, and with each passing glance they only got more pathetic. With another scoff, he went to walk away but instead ran into another person. He began spewing apologies, staring at the floor, desperately searching for a way out, when a hand was laid on his shoulder. Reluctantly he looked up, cringing slightly out of fear of what he’d find. There was a short man in front of him, not much shorter than himself, but larger nonetheless. The man had short blonde hair, the front of it covering one of his eyebrows. He had warm almost rust-colored eyes and when Karkat looked at him, they lit up. His lips stretched wide, his white teeth showing out clearly and the man almost pulled Karkat into a hug.

  
       “ You’re Karkat Vantas!” the man said, or shouted more like it, putting his other hand on Karkat’s frail shoulder. “You’re fucking incredible!” He lowered one hand and held it out in front of him, Karkat took it, “I’m a big fan of your music,” he continued, shaking Karkat’s hand ferociously. The blonde man loosened his grip, and Karkat recoiled. “I’ve seen you at least fourteen times in the last two months- I’m always cheering you on.” He finished, smiling even brighter than before. Karkat did not know how to react. He had never had fans before, and he certainly had never had someone recognize him. But when he thought back, that man was in the crowd almost every night as of recent. So, thinking about it, he looked up and asked the man’s name. “Dave.” Was his reply. “Dave Strider.” Another smile and again Dave was caught off guard, he knew he would be expected to further the conversation, but his nerves got the best of him. “I’m- I’m gonna catch a cab.” He murmured to the ground as he tried to slip passed Dave, but was stopped by the man’s freckled hand grabbing his arm gently. Dave looked at him, his smile was gone and his eyes looked serious, “Hey, I’m not some crazy fan, and” he took a breath, “If you need a place to stay for a bit, I have a couch.” He said and let go of Karkat’s arm, noticing that the man had stopped trying to get away. Karkat looked him over, squinting his eyes a bit, not sure what he was thinking. He nodded, gave his thanks, and watched the rest of the night in a blur. He listened to my lyrics he thought. In Dave’s beat up rusty old pickup truck, that’s all he could think. _He listened to my lyrics. Someone listened to my fucking lyrics._

  
       Dave stopped his car in front of a small apartment; Karkat carefully opened his door and followed the blonde, clutching his guitar against his chest tightly. Dave stuck a key in the deadbolt, turned it, and pushed the door open, swinging his arm out in front of him. “It’s not much,” he said, lightly pressing his hand on the small of Karkat’s back, “but it’s home.” Dave finished, closing the door. Karkat thought to himself, still too overwhelmed to speak, it’s so beautiful, so serene and secluded, so… warm. Dave made a gesture towards a door, “This is my room, and I’ll be in here if you need anything. I’ll be back in a minute.” He said, walking into the room. Karkat heard the man’s nasally voice call from within the room, “Have a seat, I’m just grabbing some stuff.” Karkat did as he was told, and sat on the couch, leaving his guitar leaning against the wall. He sat with his back perfectly straight, legs together tightly and his hands in tight fists in his lap. Dave came in with a bundle of linens, pillows, blankets and other cloth Karkat couldn’t identify.  
“These probably won’t fit- you’re way thinner than me- but it’s better than a shirt soaked in blood, eh?” Dave said with a laugh, laying the pile next to Karkat. “Hey,” he began, staring into Karkat’s cold, unforgiving eyes, “relax. I’m not- I’m not gonna hurt you. The uh- the bathroom’s over there.” He said, pointing to a door in the middle of the hallway. “Feel free to shower or change or whatever- towels are under the sink, you can use my shampoo and stuff. Y’know- if you want.” Dave nodded solemnly, picking up the clothes from the pile and slowly making his way to the bathroom. At first he walked in, shutting the door behind him quickly and tightly. Then, reconsidering, he popped his head out the door and finally let his expression fall. His eyes softened and his mouth went from the thin line to a dull circle as he thanked Dave once again, he made a firm point that it was no problem, and after the door was shut and locked, Karkat smiled. It was something he wasn’t used to doing, and something that almost hurt his cheeks, but it felt necessary- it felt normal for a moment like that. Karkat showered and gratefully washed his long hair for the first time in weeks.

  
       He stepped out of the bathroom, surprised to see Dave asleep on the couch, snoring. He looked at the time, a towel still draped over his shoulders due to his dripping hair. The clothes fit fine, absolutely perfect for sleeping in. Karkat balanced his weight (which wasn’t much) on the balls of his feet, tip-toeing over to Dace. Do I wake him? He thought, standing over the blonde. He began to notice the lines in Dave’s face. The man couldn’t have been older than twenty-two, yet his face was creased like that of an old man’s. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy; they seemed to pull his whole face down along with them. He doesn’t get much sleep. Karkat thought. I can’t wake him. Karkat began to chew on the inside of his mouth, he should ask, but he couldn’t wake up Dave, he just looked so peaceful and so desperate for sleep in the way Karkat knew too much about. He sighed and went to his guitar. There was a pocket on the strap in which he kept a pen and a pad of sticky notes- usually they were for lyrics- but this time he wrote a small letter. “Thank you again, Dave. When I finished bathing you were asleep and I really hope you don’t mind but I’m in your room. I’m on the floor of course, don’t worry, but I couldn’t bear to wake you. Again, I send my thanks and my sincerest apologies. -Karkat” Was the passage he decided to write, he figured it conveyed enough of what he needed to say. He peeled off the yellow paper and placed it on the coffee table, right on top of some book about how to use a computer, so that Dave would see it as soon as he woke.

  
       Karkat trailed off to the first room, Dave’s bedroom, and with opening the door escaped a wafting scent. At first it smelled of motor oil, like a garage, but the smell was laced with something sweet. Strawberries? Karkat thought, walking into the door and closing it behind him. He stopped in his tracks and opened the door; he wanted Dave to know he was in there if he woke in the middle of the night and couldn’t see the note. The bed was just a mattress on the floor with a blanket on it; there was a dresser with a lot of mail on top of it. They all seemed to be personal letters yet at the same time they all seemed very official, none of them were opened. Karkat ignored the few personal items Dave had strewn about the room, and lied himself down on the floor. It was cold and hard, but it was a thousand times more comfortable than the concrete he would have been sleeping on otherwise, and he was endlessly thankful. He had fear that sleep would not come, that he would be kept up for the entire night, but as his eyelids closed so did his mind. He drifted away, and figured it must have been the strawberries.

  
       Karkat awoke with a sharp breath, darting himself away from his blissful sleep. Everything was different. He looked around; it was the same room but- different somehow. Again he thrashed his head around, searching for an answer, before he realized that the only thing different was that he was in the bed. He had a pillow under his head, a blanket sprawled at his legs, and it had previously been up to his neck. There was a sticky note taped to his shoulder- a purple one- and, peeling it off, he read it. “I hope you don’t mind, you looked really uncomfortable on the floor so I put you here. I’m probably cooking some pretty goddamn fabulous pancakes right now. There are more clothes at the end of the bed. You can come get some. –Dave.” Karkat crumpled the note in his hand, the corner of his mouth twitching up just a bit.

  
       Karkat changed into a pair of jeans and a dark red baseball jersey. They were Dave’s and they, too, smelled like strawberries. Karkat opened the door to the bathroom slowly, tying his hair up with one hand, and spotted Dave from the kitchen and heard a distant sizzle. “You’re just in time! The pancakes are almost done!” Dave said with a huge, goofy, toothy smile, as he flipped the golden-browned pastry onto a paper plate. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing towards the coffee table, “I’ll make some coffee too. Howdoya take your coffee?” Karkat stared wide-eyed, confused, and slowly analyzed the situation. Then, snapping out of his trance, he replied with “Black, please. Thank you, again-” Dave cut him off, raising the pot of coffee. “Stop thanking me please- Jesus, Karkat, it’s my pleasure, trust me.” He said, nodding as he poured the coffee into a mug and handed it to Karkat. The corners of Karkat’s mouth twitched upwards again, and he took a sip of the coffee. It tasted merciful and he wanted to drown himself in it. Not that he necessarily wanted to drown, but the coffee was just that damn delicious. Half the mug was gone before he noticed the looks he was recieving from Dave. Karkat raised his eyebrow, and in reply Dave looked down and shuffled his feet.

  
       “Hey, somebody called for you, down at the club, I mean. Rose must’ve seen you leave with me. She let me know.” Dave said, his eyes staring at the ground like it had done something wrong, the sentence made Karkat cringe and almost choke on the drink. “Boyfriend or something- I guessed.” Karkat choked again, this time he put the mug down. “No- it was probably an old friend of mine. He’s the only one I can imagine giving a shit enough to call the club.” Dave smiled, in a split second the smile disappeared but it had been there nonetheless. “Oh. I- I told him you would call him back when you woke up.” Dave said, his eyelids falling. Karkat groaned and finished off his coffee. “Fuck-” he breathed as he stretched his arms over his head. He bit his lip. “I guess I’ll have to face him sometimes, huh?” he asked, playfully shrugging. He watched curiously as Dave’s already huge eyes enlarged. “Wait!” he began, “This isn’t the same” he made air quotes, indicating how loosely he held the term “best friend that I Let Go is about, is it?!” Dave asked enthusiastically. Karkat nodded, and Dave’s jaw dropped. “Damn. I can tell him you ran off in the night or something- if you want.” Karkat shook his head and asked for use of Tony’s phone.

  
       Gamzee Makara had shown up to Dave’s door not long after the phone conversation ended, Karkat made apologies and Dave pushed them all aside. When Gamzee arrived, knocking at the door, Dave made his way to his room to leave the friends alone. “Brother!” Gamzee said as he embraced Karkat tightly. “You got no idea how happy I am to see you alive bro.” he yelped into Karkat’s neck. Karkat was frail, but when against Gamzee he was no more than a twig, a tiny gazelle against a lion. The hug was one-sided; Karkat almost felt his ribs bruising as Gamzee’s hold only got tighter. Karkat pushed at the blonde’s shoulders.

  
       There were harsh words between the friends, Dave had barely heard them but he did hear when the door slammed shut. Part of him worried Karkat had gone, part of him shooed that thought away. Karkat was only supposed to stay there for a night anyway; it would probably be good for him to be with his friends. Dave was being selfish, like he always was. So he breathed deeply and mustered up the courage to leave his room and face the emptiness of his lonesome house. But, upon opening his door, he saw a disgruntled Karkat lying down on his couch. His long legs were bent, his hand resting on the bridge of his nose, and his hair was all over the place. Dave walked over to him slowly, and inquired about his state. Karkat jolted upwards and made apologies to Dave, moving himself into a sitting position as quickly as he could. Dave said, “Nah- really, it’s okay. I was just wondering if you were.” Karkat looked at Dave and furrowed his brow. “Thanks for letting me sleep here last night and,” he pinched the collar of the shirt he was wearing, pulling it away from his chest for a second, “thanks for letting me wear your clothes. I’ll be out of your hair in a bit.” Karkat said, locking his stare on the hardwood floor.


End file.
